


Beyond The Surface

by wondrawall



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Sad, but im vvvv proud, idk i was sad and then this happened, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform, so enjoy ok, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:10:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondrawall/pseuds/wondrawall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m okay.”</p><p>     And maybe those were the first words he had said to her in the past few months, but it shut her up, so he grabs his beanie and shuffles out of the house, like every other night.</p><p>     See, the thing is, no matter whom it is, and no matter who you are, or seem to be, people always assume.</p><p>     Everyone always has to question everyone’s actions and not one thing can go without being analyzed and rumors are always terrible.</p><p>     Everyone knows that.</p><p>     But what’s overlooked is that rumors aren’t the worst things. Sure most people believe a rumor, but the truth? </p><p>     It’s always overlooked.</p><p>     People believe what they want to believe and to Harry, that was complete and utter bullshit.</p><p>(Or the one where Louis and Harry find their missing pieces where each others' heart should be)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond The Surface

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first completed oneshot and this is also the result of me listening to too much of the 1975. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :)

And this is how it starts.

He’s just a boy, a boy who walks around the streets just outside of town at two in the morning because his mind is racing and how do you calm down a racing mind that’s racing with thoughts of nothing? He has too much of everything but not enough of anything and god, this is why his mum won’t look at him the same way and why his sister never visits from uni anymore.

And he’s just a boy who doesn’t have time to have racing thoughts when everything must be done this way and he has a schedule and how do you get out of a routine you set up for yourself? He needs to help out in every way he can because of his mum and sisters and he just doesn’t have time.

So at two in the morning, the only thing that’s routine in his life, the curly haired boy sneaks out of his back door like it’s still a secret and like he doesn’t know that his mum waits up for him and maybe, just maybe, his mum isn’t watching as he trudges down the cracked sidewalk to god knows where.

He always comes home though.

Now, the light eyed boy, who is on his seventh cup of tea, finally decides that maybe he doesn’t want this anymore, maybe he is meant to do bigger and better things with his life, but he can’t just leave, can he? He doesn’t have time to think though, so he grabs his coat that was flung on the back of a chair, and finallyfinallyfinally makes his own decision. He opens his window before quietly stepping out into the frigid air and he just takes a moment to breathe. He wants to say it smells like freedom, but he knows he’s coming back. Maybe it just smells unfamiliar and maybe, he likes that. 

He’s tired of the familiar and similar and that’s why he starts to run out of the neighborhood he’s come to loathe.

The tiny wooden bridge has become more of home than his actual home and that thought should scare him, but all he does his tuck his curls under his beanie some more before slouching back against the stone pillars that guard the bridge with their lives and maybe that symbolizes his life. The pillars are cracked and worn, the only thing holding this sad, small bridge up, and maybe he wants something or someone to hold him up no matter what for once instead of just leaving and abandoning him like his whole family and how fucking dare-

Stop.

This is why he comes here, to stop these thoughts of things that he couldn’t change, no matter how much he wishes he could, and why the fuck is he comparing his life to a bridge for god’s sake?

The golden boy continues to runrunrun, and all he can feel is the burn in his lungs, and hear the sound of the icy wind rush by and he thinks he can faintly hear the rush of running water. Where even is he?

He slows down until he’s just roaming around the unfamiliar, trying to catch his breath. He stumbles over a loose rock and catches himself on a tree before he goes flying forward into a creek.

So that’s where the water is.

He takes a few more careful steps, still gripping onto each tree that he passes when he realizes that his legs are shaking now.

He’s about to bend down so he can perch on one of the large stones on the bank of the creek when he hears a snap. He glances up to see a small bridge suspended over the creek and of course he would be stupid enough to miss that. He’s so stupid and why can’t he do anything right and this is why he can’t escape the disappointing looks that maybe he’s just making up in his head because maybe his mum is actually thankful and proud and-

No.

He doesn’t have time to think about these things. Especially since he thinks he sees someone on that bridge. He quickly glances side to side to see how the hell he was supposed to get up there when he notices a set of cobblestone steps leading up from the creek bank. He swiftly makes his way over and up to the bridge.

The faint glow of the lamps on the stone pillars illuminates the bridge and he notices the figure was a boy, who was sitting with his back against the pillar, his eyes gazing up at the cloudy night sky.

He walks over to the mystery boy, carefully, when Mystery’s eyes flits over to him for a second, before he seems to shrug it off and continue gazing at the darkness of the sky.

He takes this as an ‘okay’ from Mystery and comes closer before leaning against the other identical pillar.

Mystery doesn’t look at him from then on, just continues to gaze up and he’s okay with that. For once it’s nice not having the focus on him and not having to be the center of attention and having to look after everyone and it’s okay. 

After what feels like minutes, but turns out being an hour or two, Mystery finally turns toward him and he’s able to get a good look at him and the site is breathtaking.

He couldn’t even get a proper thought in before Mystery is breaking the silence with his gravelly, somewhat hoarse from not being used, voice, and says, “M’Harry.”

“L-Louis,” He chokes out.

Mys-Harry nods before he’s standing up and brushing off his worn and torn jeans. It’s then that Louis notices just how tall and somewhat lanky Harry is as he is trudging off somewhere to the unknown.

Louis takes that as his cue to leave and maybe he looks back, and maybe this just becomes a thing, but neither of them would ever tell you if you asked.  
**************

The next night is filled with loud noises and voices and hatred and anger and how can you get away from the things that you’re inflicting on yourself?

He needs to leave and maybe he’s getting more confident (or more scared) because he’s running down the road again in the dead of night when silence has finally settled over the neighborhood.

It’s funny how silence is always described as peaceful, or eerie, or unsettling, when really, it’s nothing.

Silence is the one thing Louis lives for but at the end of the day he can’t stand being in the same room as himself, alone. Silence becomes too much and just overwhelming.

Then again, is there ever really silence? He can never escape the voices in his head telling him he’s wrong, telling him he’s a failure, telling him that maybe if he just stopped being, that no one would miss him and wouldn’t wish he stayed and that-

Silence isn’t real and all he could describe it as was unattainable.

He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and he continues to trail alongside the road, unconsciously following the same path he took the night before.

Soon enough, he reaches the creek and this time he notices the bridge. He cuts across the foliage littered ground and once again sees Harry sitting back against the pillar, this time twirling a leaf in his hands.

Louis plops down against the other pillar and takes in a shuddery breath and tries to hold back the tears that sting his eyes.

When did he become such a fuck up? There was never a bad point, he didn’t have a bad childhood, he wasn’t bullied at school, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to realize that yeah, things were hard for him and it was shit knowing no one believed him until it was too late and they caught him holding a bottle of pills and that’s why he had to constantly be surrounded by people because they didn’t trust-

Yeah. 

He lies his head down against his knees as he pulls them close to him, taking some deep breaths as he tries to calm himself from the panic that’s washing over him, and that’s when he feels warmth beside him.

Louis glances up as he tries to quickly rub his eyes when he sees Harry sitting next to him, closely.

Harry doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t say anything, but his presence is enough.

Words couldn’t describe how much Louis appreciates that, so he scoots a bit closer and rests his head back on his knees and takes some more deep breaths, calmer now.

For the rest of the night they sit together, not saying a word, until the sun begins to rise and they both realize that it would be best to leave.

They stand up together and Louis offers Harry a shy smile, which is returned with a dimpled grin.

And yeah, maybe this would be their little secret.  
************************  
“Harry! You can’t just keep leaving! I don’t know where you’re going and I’m- Harry listen to me!”

Harry whirls around to face his mother who has a tear streaked face and he wonders if it’s permanently like that because ever since she found out about that little bit of Harry that she didn’t know about for so long, now all he can see in her eyes is worry, and pity, and-

“I’m okay.”

And maybe those were the first words he had said to her in the past few months, but it shut her up, so he grabs his beanie and shuffles out of the house, like every other night.

See, the thing is, no matter whom it is, and no matter who you are, or seem to be, people always assume.

Everyone always has to question everyone’s actions and not one thing can go without being analyzed and rumors are always terrible.

Everyone knows that.

But what’s overlooked is that rumors aren’t the worst things. Sure most people believe a rumor, but the truth? 

It’s always overlooked.

People believe what they want to believe and to Harry, that was complete and utter bullshit. 

So when Harry’s guilt got the best of him and he finally decided to come clean to his mum about what he was really doing to himself and why he stopped enjoying school and why he didn’t talk to her as much, and why he didn’t talk as much in general, she didn’t believe him.

And having your own mum call you a liar and laugh in your face and say how he ‘should stop being so silly’, that was probably the worst feeling in the world.

He told her, so it wasn’t his fault right? He told her what was wrong and if she didn’t believe him then who would? He could only tell so many people because if you tell too many then you’re an attention seeker, but if you don’t tell anyone at all then you’re crazy, then what the fuck was he supposed to do then?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing and that’s what he stood by.

He couldn’t fuck up that way then. If he didn’t do anything then nothing would happen to him which is why he came to the bridge because he does absolutely nothing, but then that boy came and he did something didn’t he?

He introduced himself for fucks sake. He couldn’t help but be polite and comforting because that was just him.

So when he saw that Louis was on the verge of tears, he had to comfort him because it was in his nature and no one likes tears.

They burn, and sting, and show your weakness, and cause you to hate yourself more because why can’t you just hold it together?

So yeah, he did something.

He just continues to hope that nothing shitty happens. Maybe this could be the one time someone doesn’t turn on him and leaves him. Maybe this time it will be different.

So, the next night, he returns to the bridge, and Louis is already there, this time, he’s standing on the bridge, leaning against the stone wall to look down at the creek.

Harry walks up and stands next to him, copying his stance, and leans against the side of the wall too.

They stand there in comfortable silence, both of them gazing down at the rushing water below.

For once though, Harry’s mind is quiet. He wasn’t exactly thinking of anything and when he realizes it he furrows his brows in confusion before glancing up to notice Louis was already looking at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Louis asks, barely louder than a whisper.

Harry nods.

“Why do you come here?”

“To, um, escape.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you come here?”

“To breathe.”

“Oh.”

They both turn away to glance back down at the water that seems to have calmed down a bit. The glow of the lights flicker and everything just seems peaceful.

They both stand there for another hour or so before Harry notices Louis’ eyes are starting to droop from sleep, so he nudges him a bit with his elbow.

“You should get going, you look tired,” He suggests.

Louis shrugs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hands, “I suppose.”

“G’night Lou,” The name rolls off his tongue before he can help it.

Louis gives him a sleepy smile, “Same to you Harold.”

With that, he trudges off, hands shoved deep in his pockets and a small grin on his face.

And maybe Harry watches him walk away until he rounds the corner, and maybe he has a smile on his face too, and maybe he would want to tell his mum about the fit boy he met, but he can’t exactly do that, can he?  
*******************  
So the routine begins, but this time, Louis doesn’t mind it. He’s okay with this, because for once he has a choice in this and he’s able to make his own decisions, it’s fantastic really.

Each night he meets up with Harry and they just start to figure each other out. Harry actually listens instead of just nodding along when appropriate, he actually interrupts with questions when he doesn’t get something, and he’s just so refreshing.

Louis learns that Harry has some family problems, just like himself, and his mum basically thinks he’s insane and the only words she ever asks are, ‘are you okay’, and Harry tells him how redundant that gets and how he wishes he could just talk to his mum without getting ‘the look’ and feeling worthless, so yeah, Louis feels understood because he can relate to someone for once.

Louis speaks about how his dad left and how his mum relies on him so much and how his sisters look up to him so much, and how sometimes that just gets to be too much because why should they look up to their fucked up older brother? He tells Harry about the day he got caught holding the bottle of pills and how after that his mum also gave him ‘the look’ (Harry squeezes his shoulder comfortingly) and how he just feels suffocated in his own home.

They fit.

They understand.

They click.

They figure each other out.

“This might be a weird question,” Harry says.

Louis shrugs, “M’pretty sure nothing’s weird with us anymore.”

Harry nods at that before saying, “Is there ever a chance we could, you know, talk when it’s not like pitch black outside and cold as bollocks?”

Louis turns to face Harry and stays silent for a moment.

“Um, okay, forget I asked that, that was weird, and wow look at the time, I should probably-“

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Of course we can, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Louis smiles. (Genuinely of course)

“Well, I know of this really great place, um my mate Niall owns it, and they have really good coffee, and tea for you of course, and we could go there in the morning if you like…?” 

“I would love to.”

So they do.

And maybe Harry sneaks little glances at Louis because he can’t help that the light catches the blue in his eyes and the shine in his hair, and the happiness on his face.

And maybe Louis notices Harry looking at him, but he’s not one to judge as he does the same because he can’t help but appreciate how the cold makes Harry’s lips that much more red, and his cheeks that much more rosy, and his hair that much more wind swept and gorgeous.

And maybe Louis takes Harry home with him and they run into his mum, and Harry gets introduced and Jay smiles. She smiles and is happy and loud again and the girls adore Harry and won’t stop clinging to him and hanging off of his every word and Louis can’t help the fond that washes over him and no, he won’t call it love (yes he will).

And finally, maybe Harry’s mum and sister walk in on him and Louis baking cupcakes for Louis’ sister’s birthday, as they’re giggling, and grinning, and just looking so sickeningly in love. His mum’s face lights up (something it hasn’t done in sososo long) and his sister teases him (something she’s held back from doing for just as long) and maybe Harry and Louis are a blushing mess throughout the whole thing but his mum approves and is happy and before she leaves she reaches up to kiss Harry on the cheek and whisper,

“I’m proud of you, love.”

That night, they don’t leave the house. The storm is pretty terrible outside so they curl up on the couch, drinking some of Harry’s famous hot chocolate (“It’s not famous Haz.” “Neither is your tea.” “You take that back!”) And watching ‘Lady and the Tramp’, (“You’re definitely Lady, Harry. You’re all posh and stuff.”).

And maybe as they’re sleeping on the couch, cuddled up under the massive blankets, bodies intertwined and everything, the movie ends, and up next is the news.

Reports of the old bridge collapsing flash on the screen, because of the storm outside.

Louis snuffles a bit, presses closer to Harry, and takes a deep breath.

Maybe this is how it was always meant to be.


End file.
